My Turn
by InvisibleBookworm
Summary: After one of Castiel's wings is injured during a wendigo attack, it's up to Dean to protect the angel from the monsters of purgatory while he rests and heals.


For the first time since they'd been trapped in purgatory, Dean is the one keeping watch while Cas sleeps next to him. The roles are normally reversed with the angel staying vigilant through the night, defending his charge from the endless waves of monsters wanting to sink their claws and teeth into his vulnerable flesh, while Dean tries to snatch a few scant hours of rest before they continue their search for a way out.

Dean glances down briefly at the slumbering angel. Cas has his face pressed against the outside of Dean's thigh and a hand curled around the inside. Dean doesn't mind the intimacy of their current position – when you've only got one other person than yourself to rely on in such a harsh environment, personal boundaries become a non-issue. The angel is a comforting warmth at his side, reminding Dean that he is not alone in this nightmarish landscape.

Curled up with his eyes shut, face lacking the pinched, furrowed look of constant watchfulness, Cas looks softer and more vulnerable, very different from the usual fierce soldier persona he's adopted as he beats back the never-ending tide of creatures trying to rip them to bloody shreds. Armed with only the single machete he'd had on him when sucked into purgatory, Dean knows he's only survived this long because of the angel's protection, and he's grateful for it – the monsters here are both bigger and meaner than they are on earth, and they all want their pound of Dean's flesh.

Even in sleep, Cas still seems to have the need to protect Dean in some capacity – the angel has one wing stretched out to cover them both, draped over Dean's legs like a feathery blanket, chasing off the biting chill of the purgatory night air. Dean recalls the awe he'd felt when he'd first seen the dark wings arching above the angel's head as real, solid things, not just intangible shadows cast on a wall. Now, he's gotten used to sleeping underneath them whenever he and Cas stop to rest for the night, even going as far as burying his fingers into the feathers and leaving them there as he drifts off, taking comfort in the thought that the angel is watching over him. Dean has to admit that the angel looks totally badass when he faces off against one of the many creatures coming after them with his wings flared defensively and his angel sword in one hand – a real-live avenging angel from one of Bobby's musty, old texts.

Dean can't help but reach out and run a finger along the arch of the wing covering him, relishing the soft, silky feel of feathers. As much as Dean wants out of purgatory, the one thing he'll regret once they're back on earth is losing the ability to see and feel Cas's wings. It's probably as close as he'll ever get to seeing Cas's true form and he likes that he can see some part of the powerful creature that resides beneath the deceptively human visage. After all, Cas has seen _all_ of him.

He quickly draws back, not wanting to wake the angel as the wing twitches slightly under his finger. The wing twitches one more time before stilling and Dean relaxes – in his current state, Cas needs all the rest he can get. Dean's eyes trail over to the the other wing that's folded loosely against Cas's back. He can't see the damage from where he's sitting, but Dean knows that if he examines the underside of the wing, he'll find twisted feathers and silvery traces of what passes as Castiel's grace-blood in this god forsaken place. Dean's gut clenches with guilt – Cas had gotten hurt because of him, _again_.

They'd been fighting against a wendigo that had dropped out of the trees on top of them when it managed to backhand Dean to the ground. Stunned by the forceful blow, Dean had been struggling to get back on his feet when the wendigo had swiped at him with it's claws. Cas had materialized in front of Dean, shielding him with outstretched wings, so instead of cleaving deep gouges into Dean's torso, the claws had ripped their way through the vulnerable underside of Cas's right wing. In the end, Cas had burned the wendigo to ash with a blast of his grace and they'd hauled tail out of there before any other monsters in the vicinity could come barreling out of the darkness.

"Cas, you stupid son of a bitch," Dean murmurs with no real heat in his tone. "Why'd you have to go and jump in front of me like that?" But Dean knows that Cas would rather die than let anything hurt Dean. Hell, the angel _has _died for him, more than once too. "You shouldn't have done that, you stupid bastard."

Dean remembers how each step taken as they'd raced away had jostled the injured wing, causing Cas further pain. He remembers each low moan of suffering the angel had emitted as they'd continued onwards. He remembers how the angel's body had trembled against his as he'd held Cas close to offer all the support he could.

"You shouldn't have had to go through that," He whispers hoarsely, throat tight. By the time they'd stumbled across a small alcove of a cave that could serve as a safe place to rest for the night, the angel had been visibly shaking and only half-lucid.

As if sensing Dean's train of thought, the injured wing shifts a little and Cas lets out a soft whimper of pain, his brow furrowing. Dean quickly makes some soft shushing noises, trying to get the angel to relax again. The wing spasms more violently and Cas tosses his head a little, obviously reliving the excruciating moment in his nightmares. "Hey, hey. You're safe now. Nothing's going to happen to you, not on my watch." Dean casts an angry glare at the darkness surrounding them. "Any of those things want a piece of you, they gotta go through me first, you hear me? I'll tear them apart."

Hating the troubled frown flickering across his friend's face, Dean carefully reaches out and and runs a palm along the injured wing. The wing flutters again before stilling under the gentle motion of Dean's hand. Cas lets out a quiet sigh, his expression smoothing out. Dean can feel the last remaining tension bleed out of the angel's body as he continues to stroke the wing, smoothing down the occasional errant feather. Humming the melody of 'Hey Jude', Dean moves his hand to the back of the angel's neck, his thumb rubbing in soothing circles. In turn, Cas unconsciously tucks his face even closer to Dean's thigh, his grip tightening around the inside. Dean keeps his gentle ministrations going as the angel settles back into deep slumber.

"It's my turn to protect you," Dean murmurs.


End file.
